His name was Brent, and I am sure he did this a lot and got away w it. The year was 1990.

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I was 17 years old, drunk, and in a bar called The Salty Dog in Ocean City, Maryland.

I had a fake id.

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I was there with my friends, also underaged, but I lost track of them.

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A hot guy grabbed my hand.

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"Where are you going?" he asked.

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"I'm looking for my friends," I said.

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"I know where they are," he told me and took me by the hand out of the bar.

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We climbed into a Jeep parked right outside, and he shoved his tongue down my throat promptly.

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I pulled away. "Wait, wait. Is this your car?" I asked, stalling.

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"Yeah," he said.

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I ejected the cassette from the deck and said,"Oh, so you like 'Til Tuesday?"

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He opened the door, got out, beckoned me, held out his hand, and said, "Come on." I stupidly followed. "I'll take you to your friends," he assured me.

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We walked several blocks, hand in hand, and we got to a house. "Is this where they are?" I asked. He said yes.

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I went into the house, he brought me to his bedroom, and he attacked me.

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I fought him off, and it turned him on. Jesus. He was saying things like, "Oh, you like to play hard to get." He was shoving his dick on me, trying to penetrate me through my underpants while simultaneously trying to pull them off. I was wearing a skirt and was resisting. Get off of me," I demanded.

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It became a fucked up wrestling match. I'd almost get away, and he'd grab me back. Finally, I ended up elbowing him in the face and got the f out of there.

Everything is so clear to me. I remember the wood paneled walls in his bedroom. I remember what he looked like. I remember the fish tank in the living room being the only light source as I ran for the front door.

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I ran and ran and in the street. No regard for anything except getting to my boyfriend's house nearby.

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I got to the door, but no one was there.

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So I made my way to Ocean Highway.

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I walked against traffic in the bus lane and came across a maroon apron.

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I picked it up and wandered to my apartment.

Did I mention that I graduated hs young and was living on my own at 17? I can't believe my parents let me do this.

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My roommates were not home. I counted the cash from the apron - over $300.

There was no wallet or any identifying info, just a wad of cash.

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I never told my boyfriend, friends, roommates or the police about almost being raped because I thought I was stupid for getting myself into that situation.

I was ashamed.

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And what would the police do had I reported it? I was an underaged kid in a bar, and he didn't rape me. He just tried.

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So I just kept it to myself. And I kept the money and used it to pay my rent.

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Now that I am older, I realize that the guy, Brent, must have done that so many times. I wonder how many young women he raped. He was smooth.

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P.S. I know the cash part of the story is out of place, but I have to include it because it is so ... Idk, it's just a part of the story. Also, it was kind of shitty for me to keep it, but...

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P.P.S. I know how lucky I am to have gotten away from him and that there are many very strong women who are not so lucky.